


No leg to stand on

by m_findlow



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25526413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_findlow/pseuds/m_findlow
Summary: Stubbornness is both a blessing and a curse.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Kudos: 21
Collections: fic_promptly Fills 2016





	No leg to stand on

Ianto had a broken leg and he wasn't happy about it. In all fairness, there had really been no preventing it. The old house had been dark, abandoned months ago, with no electricity, and there was no way of telling just how badly rotted the floorboards underneath were. That is, until his foot went to straight through one, leg disappearing deeply into it and snapping loudly and painfully.

Now he was stuck at home, limping about on crutches, leg plastered from ankle to knee, and wearing the baggiest jeans he owned, just to fit them over his cast without having to tear open the seams on a pair of perfectly good pants.

'I can work,' he protested as Jack was about five seconds from flashing out the door.

'You need to be resting.'

'Bones don't heal any quicker if you're lying down,' he countered, trying to chase awkwardly after Jack as he got closer and closer to the door, determined to leave Ianto behind.

'Stay,' Jack ordered.

'I'm not a pet.'

He grabbed Ianto and kissed him on the forehead. 'You're my pet. Now be good,' he said, darting out the door.

Being home was alright for the first few hours and Ianto found it actually quite soothing to get away from the chaos of the hub. He could sit on the sofa and fold the week's worth of clean laundry that had accumulated into two large baskets, and savour the luxury of a long slow breakfast, with time for reading the paper beyond just the daily skim for stories that suggested possible alien intervention. He even found a well worn copy of one of his favourite books, stuffed down the side of the sofa and took to re-reading that for several hours. The novelty of being a man of luxury however quickly wore off, and he was steadily going out of his mind with boredom.

He didn't even see Jack about the house for the first three days. They'd been flat out at work and both nights he'd come home ridiculously late, crawling into bed without a word, earning barely a murmur from Ianto as he was wrested from slumber in the deep hours of the night.

On the morning of the fourth day, he decided he'd had enough. House arrest was beginning to indeed feel like a prison sentence.

'What are you doing here?' Jack exclaimed when he saw Ianto hobble in through the cog wheel door. 'More to the point, how did you get here?'

'I walked,' he replied deadpan.

'Seriously?'

'Don't be stupid. I got a cab.'

Jack folded his arms and looked him up and down. 'You shouldn't be here.'

'I was losing my mind at home. Everything was clean except the oven, and I could hardly get down on my hands and knees to do that, could I?'

Jack gave him a vexed look that warred between being annoyed that he was here, and glad to see him. 'Fine, you can stay, but limited and light duties only. I mean it.'

'Perfect,' Owen said. 'White with one, thanks.'

'Get your own coffee, Owen,' Jack barked.

'I can make coffee,' Ianto insisted, already trying to limp across towards the narrow gangway, making a mental note not to get the end of his crutch stuck in the grating.

'You need both hands and two good legs to stand up in the kitchen.'

'I can do it,' he protested.

Jack sat him down and took hold of his crutches. 'Not anymore you can't.'

'Stop being so difficult!'

'Says the man who hobbled halfway across the city. Why do the Welsh have to be so stubborn?'

It was a petulant stand off, but eventually Ianto conceded, if only to keep the peace, knowing that Jack would sulk far worse than Ianto if he didn't get his way.

Owen eventually got his way too, having managed to wheel Ianto toward the kitchen on his chair, so that he could spare them all from the dreaded instant coffee. Even Jack seemed remotely grateful for the break in his new routine. Tea just didn't cut it, no matter how much sugar he dumped in it.

Lunch was easy enough for Ianto to arrange, having phoned out for pizza, saving him having to go and collect anything, with the exception of a trip up the lift to the tourist office. Then he realised he was going to need a spare hand to carry the boxes back down. Tosh was more than happy to help, and even agreed not to mention it to Jack. Any more "I told you so's" at this point, and he might just belt Jack with his crutch.

After lunch, Ianto began cleaning away the mess on the coffee table, still seated on the sofa. Jack grabbed his hand, stopping him. 'I think you've done enough for today. We'll clean up here. You should go home.'

'I've only been here three hours!'

'Well, then take a nap instead. You're already on the sofa, so put your feet up.'

'You must be joking,' he said, even though he refused to admit to himself that he was a little run down after days of doing nothing much at all, and that a few hours of excitement were more than he'd been used to.

'I'm taking custody of these,' Jack said, commandeering Ianto's crutches again, 'until you get some rest. You can have them back after I'm satisfied.'

'You're never satisfied,' he complained.

'But I am the boss.'

He was loathe to admit it, but the forty minutes of sleep did him a world of good, and he woke up feeling refreshed and ready to tackle a few more mentally demanding tasks. Jack begrudgingly handed back his crutches and accompanied him down to the archives, where he told Jack he could happily spend the rest of the afternoon, tidying up records on his computer.

'That's good. I don't want you trying to carry or lift anything.'

'I won't,' he promised.

'All the same think I'll take these back again,' he said, pilfering the crutches, 'just so you keep up your end of the bargain.'

Ianto was getting fed up of having his only mode of transport hijacked. 'It's a good thing you trust me,' he quipped.

'I trust you just fine,' Jack replied. 'It's your stubbornness and work ethic I have issue with.'

Abandoned at his desk in the archives, he was well and truly resigned to desk duties. Annoyingly, he realised for the first time that his chair in the archives, didn't have any wheels. If he thought he was going anywhere, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

Hours later, Jack finally made his way back downstairs, to go and retrieve Ianto and call it a day. For the first time in days, it looked like the rift was going to behave itself and let them have the night off. He only prayed that the weevils would do the same, choosing to stay cooped up in the sewers. They were predicting rain all evening, so that should keep the weevils down below, and left Jack's spirits up.

He was passing through the winding maze of passages that made up the lower corridors when he spied something sprawled on the ground just ahead of him. It didn't take long to realise that the thing lying on the ground was Ianto. He rushed over. 'Ianto! Are you okay?'

'No, I'm not,' he said, rolling over on his back and groaning in pain, clutching at his leg.

'What are you doing here?'

'I was trying to go to the bathroom, but some bastard stole my crutches! I managed to get there okay but fell on the way back, and I've been here ever since.'

Jack groaned in frustration. 'Why didn't you call me?'

'Because I'm not an invalid.'

Jack stared down at him, writhing in obvious pain. He couldn't help but see the funny side in Ianto's hopeless determination. It was just one of his many frustrating, yet endearing qualities. He crossed his arms, staring down at his young lover. 'You might want to rethink that assessment.'

Ianto let out a pained sigh. 'Okay, so maybe it wasn't the smartest thing in the world to do, but it's done now,' he said, looking a little bit sheepish at his own obstinate foolishness.

Jack sighed, kneeling down to help him back to his feet, keeping a firm arm wrapped around his middle until he could get the crutches underneath his arms to take most of the weight. Even then he leaned heavily against Jack, still in a lot of pain. 'And here I was looking forward to a quiet dinner at home. Now we're going to be spending it at the hospital, having your leg reset and replastered.'

'All a cunning ploy to get you to spend more time with me,' Ianto replied, hissing at the tiniest amount of pressure put on his damaged leg.

'Next time, just ask,' Jack said, practically carrying him. 'Owen will never let you hear the end of this. What's say tomorrow we take the whole day off and spend it in bed together? That way, you get to spend time with me, and I get the satisfaction of knowing you're resting up. And we both avoid a lecture from Owen.'

'Since when has spending the day in bed with you ever been restful?'

'There's a first time for everything.'


End file.
